Penguin Classics: New York, 2003; originally published in 1818. Before I begin this review, I want you to think of everything you think you know about Frankenstein. What comes to mind even when I think of Frankenstein is the classic depiction from the old horror movies. The insane doctor with a German accent screaming, “It’s alive!” as lightning lights up the sky and magically brings his new friend to life. A hideous monster who speaks in broken English. In the book, none of that happened. The lightning thing never happened; Victor never said, “It’s alive!”; and the monster was, according to Victor, quite attractive (with the exception of his somewhat unsettling eyes, but I’ll get to that later). Rather than the science fiction horror story of the silver screen, the original book was actually a profound and grim commentary on the dangers of unethical science. The novel, written by Mary Shelley in 1818, opens with Captain Robert Walton aboard a ship drifting through the North Pole. He spots none other than Victor Frankenstein, stranded on the ice and looking very displeased indeed. He takes Victor on board and, naturally, wants some context as to why this scientist is stranded in the middle of the North Pole. Victor launches into an exhaustive life story told in excruciating detail from the very beginning. Victor, born in Italy to a German family and raised in Geneva, Switzerland, is a brilliant scientist who grew up reading the works of outdated alchemists and scientists. This motivates him to get a real education and pursue science as a career. This whole bit bored me to tears, and I’m sure it will do the same for you, so I’m going to skip on to the juicy part: Fast forward to years later. Victor has dropped out of college (no, he was not a doctor, not even close) and decided that he’s going to go dig up some graves, stitch some body parts together, and bring his new creation to life. Grave robbing and playing god. Classic midlife crisis. To someone like Victor, this is a completely normal thought process. Victor does indeed bring this creation to life, though it’s never said how (screenwriters had to make up the lightning thing all on their own). He also never says, “It’s alive!” His reaction is more of an “Oh, cool.” Contrary to the classic Hollywood nightmare, said monster is actually very beautiful. The monster’s only fault is that he has terrifying eyes. Victor is, in fact, so afraid of the monster’s eyes that he declares the experiment a failure, ditches the monster, and leaves the monster to his own devices. Deadbeat dad of the century right there. The monster wanders out into the world, curious and kind and eager to learn. The monster soon finds out, however, that people are afraid of him. He is naturally confused and scared and runs into the forests of the Swiss Alps. There he is lost, wandering around and discovering the world for the first time, given that he’s basically a giant baby. The monster learns to speak by listening in on a rural family in the Alps. He begins to understand that all his misfortunes are caused by Victor, the one person who was supposed to take care of him. From there, the monster decides to seek revenge on his creator. I won’t spoil the rest! Victor, out of arrogance and disregard for anyone but himself, brought the monster to life without regard for the consequences of his actions. When this backfired, instead of accepting responsibility for his mistake and either killing the monster or raising him properly, he hightails it out of Switzerland and leaves the monster to fend for itself rather than face what he has done. Victor isn’t a mad scientist, nor is he a hero. He is someone whose life fell into ruin because he only thought about himself; he let his ego dictate his work. To all the people who say “Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster”—in this story, there are two monsters. And one of them is indeed named Frankenstein. Valentine Wulf, 13 Seattle, WA
Book Reviews
A Little Princess
Harper Classics: New York, 1998; originally published in 1905. I consider myself privileged. I have a wonderful family, live in a big house in the suburbs, and I go to a highly-ranked school. My family really cares about me. I have a great life with wonderful opportunities and perform well in school and in the extracurricular activities I participate in. I am most likely a child who is awfully spoiled. Although I can see it so clearly now, there was once a time that I thought I did not have a very good life. There was always someone who had something better than me. So what if I had a cookie in my lunch? Someone else had two cookies, and obviously, two cookies were undoubtedly superior to one cookie. I was a disagreeable young girl and coveted more than I had. I didn’t see how lucky I truly was. Now I know that it was an amazing miracle that my little first-grade self plucked A Little Princess from the shelf one bitterly cold winter morning. As I studied the book cover for the very first time, I was captivated by the girl my age in a rosy pink frock on the cover. A book about someone my age? I excitedly pondered in my head. I saw the title, A Little Princess, printed on the cover in a cursive font I admired. A girl my age who was a princess? This is going to be a good book! I had no idea how true that statement would turn out to be. When I started reading the book that very weekend, I was treated to descriptions of smoggy, turn-of-the-century London. This was where rich, clever Sara Crewe went to a dignified yet stingy old boarding school. Sara was no ordinary girl, though. She was undoubtedly kind. Instead of being friends with the popular mean girls, she sparked friendships with the misfit students and younger girls. She was also a star student, yet she didn’t brag about her cleverness to her peers. She was truly a lovely little girl. I immediately found distinct similarities between Sara and me. We both had an intriguing look, that was different yet pretty. We were both very clever and deemed “smart” by our teachers and peers. But as I read on, I found so much more in this book. As I traveled through heartbreak, hardships, and cruelty with Sara as my companion, I uncovered a true secret of life. As she was abused, starved, and cruelly mistreated, Sara was still gracious. She was tenderly chivalrous to all those she crossed paths with, even when they greeted her by barking orders at her, even as she labored over difficult work. Seeing this, I had a sudden epiphany. I stopped reading all at once and thought long and hard. If Sara could be magnanimous in a time of great trial, shouldn’t I be even more so when I had so much more to be gracious about? Couldn’t I give so much more to those in greater need than I was? I had the power to be gracious and kind. That was when I decided to use it. A Little Princess taught me to be a friend. It also taught me to be kind and grateful. I never neglect to say “please” or “thank you,” because I know, though small, those simple words can be extremely powerful. You know you’ve found a great book when it transforms your thought process. Now I know how lucky I was to find a little princess on the shelf that fateful Monday morning. Ava Horton, 13 Gresham, OR
A Little Princess
Harper Classics: New York, 1998;originally published in 1905. What does a person really need in order to be happy? If you were to lose every tangible thing which gives you joy now, what intangible things would make life still worth living? The novel A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett answers these two questions from the point of view of an eleven-year-old with a response which is ultimately simple, sweet, and surprisingly wise. The wealthy, pampered Sara Crewe finds herself alone in a new country when her doting father leaves her at a London boarding school. As she adjusts to her new life, her character turns out to be surprisingly different from that of the stereotypical rich, spoiled girl; she uses her advantage and intelligence to help those of her classmates cast off by the other girls. But when Sara’s father suddenly passes away, leaving behind nothing but debt, her life is turned upside down. Transformed from a veritable princess into an unpaid scullery maid, she loses all the expensive comforts she is used to. However, Sara’s kindness, tenacity and imagination afford her new joys, eventually bringing her all the way to a happy ending. There are two intertwining themes in A Little Princess: the power of imagination and the power of kindness. When I first read the novel as a quiet “dreamer” third-grader, I was surprised and impressed by the way Sara conquers her troubles: by imagining that she is a princess. Telling herself that she is above those who ridicule her, she ends up making her dream a reality by striving to act better than her tormentors—even if it means hiding sadness or biting back anger. She notices and appreciates the small joys in her new life, pretending to be elsewhere when her sadness overcomes her. Sara’s ability to find joy in apparent bleakness is so great that friends who visit from their comfortable rooms go away envying her bare, drafty attic; her tenacious cheerfulness beautifies her poverty more than money and expensive furniture do for her peers. The second recurring idea in A Little Princess is the impact of kind actions. Sara’s painstaking kindness to many characters, including the scullery maid Becky, spoiled toddler Lottie, learning-challenged Ermengarde, and even a lost monkey, repeatedly comes back to help her when she needs it most. Her resolution to be a princess in actions, if not in wealth, is one which continually acts in her favor—giving her hope, self-respect, and sustenance just as she strives to give it to others. Years after first reading the book, I still try to apply its themes to my own life. A touch of imagination and kindness has helped me through countless hard days and added joy to easy ones; rereading Sara’s story now lifts my spirits. A Little Princess is the essence of what we can live for, of how we can deal with hard times, whisked into a story just close enough to a fairy tale that its moral feels more like a familiar friend than a stranger. I’ve loved reading the classics ever since I was old enough to understand them. I carried them with me on school trips, piled them next to my pillow, and quoted and cherished their words wherever I went. But they aren’t just special to me because of their universally relatable plots or old-fashioned language—although I enjoy those elements too. Classics—older books which have survived generations— tend to carry with them a host of life lessons, buried in the pages like treasure waiting to be found. These lessons can remind us of what we care about, off er advice when things get diff icult, and shine a few rays of hope into our lives when we most need them. That is my favorite thing about reading: its power to guide the reader through real life. If you were to lose everything, what intangible things would make life still worth living? There are a few answers to that question. Imagination. Hope. Kindness. Friendship. And maybe, as a comforting map to help you fi nd the purpose you’re looking for, the imprint of a good book on your heart. Vandana Ravi, 12 Palo Alto, CA
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
Harper Perennial: New York, 2018;originally published in 1943. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith is the story of a Brooklyn girl with Irish ancestors who grows up at the beginning of the 20th century with all the hardships that come from not having enough money in the house, a drunkard for a father, and a mother who prefers her son to her daughter. Although Frances Nolan’s life is riddled with complications, she never ceases to find beautiful places and things in life—like the flower in the bowl at the library that changes with every season or the little school 12 blocks away that she dearly wants to attend. We follow Francie from her birth to womanhood. We meet her singing father and her hardworking mother, her three aunts and her saint-like grandmother, as well as Cornelius (or “Neeley” for short), her little brother who is so favored by their mother. As Francie grows older, she realizes how poverty limits her family, and she knows she doesn’t want to grow old poor. So at the age of 14, Francie gets a job, pretending she is 16, to help bring in more money for her family. A lot of the story’s main ideas are about life lessons, about poverty, and what it was like to be a girl, then a woman, at the beginning of the 20th century. One of the sharper life lessons of the story is when Francie learns that not everyone appreciates the truth. She has started to write stories based on her surroundings, but her teacher does not approve. Francie used to write beautiful, made-up stories which Miss Gardner loved, but when Francie starts to write stories about drunkenness, poverty, and hunger Miss Gardner gets angry: “You were one of my best pupils. You wrote so prettily. I enjoyed your compositions. But these last ones . . .” she flicked at them contemptuously. “. . . poverty, starvation and drunkenness are ugly subjects to choose. We all admit these things exist. But one doesn’t write about them.” “What does one write about?” . . . “One delves into the imagination and finds beauty there . . . ” Francie and the reader understand that Miss Gardner is wrong because truth is also poverty and hunger and drunkenness. This is by no means all of what truth is, but it is still truth. To say that beauty is the only truth is to only see half of reality. After this conversation with her teacher, Francie realizes for the first time that educated people might see her life as revolting. I read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn just after finishing The Chosen by Chaim Potok. The Chosen is a novel set in Brooklyn about Reuven and Danny, two Jewish boys who become best friends and have to live through the silence that Danny’s father infl icts upon Danny. It was interesting to read two books set in the same location but at different time periods. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is set around World War I, and The Chosen is set around World War II. In A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Francie walks home down Graham Avenue, and she notices everything: She was excited by the filled pushcarts—each a little store in itself—the bargaining, emotional Jews and the peculiar smells of the neighborhood; baked stuffed fish, sour rye bread fresh from the oven, and something that smelled of honey boiling. She stared at the bearded men in their alpaca skullcaps and silkolene coats . . . Similarly, in The Chosen, Reuven walks with Danny down the street where Danny lives. He notices how: [T]he street throbbed with the noise of playing children who seemed in constant motion, dodging around cars, racing up and down steps, chasing after cats, climbing trees, balancing themselves as they tried walking on top of the banisters, pursuing one another in furious games of tag—all with their fringes and earlocks dancing wildly in the air and trailing out behind them. These two passages are very similar in their description of the streets in Brooklyn, even though more than 20 years and two world wars separate the two stories. Readers get a real sense in both books of how varied and alive Brooklyn was. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is beautifully written and entrances the reader from the first page. I recommend it for mid to older teens. It is not a simple read because of the style of writing, which often includes the Brooklyn slang from the time. One example of the slang in the book is when a mean little girl spits in Francie’s face but Francie doesn’t cry. The little girl says, “Why don’t you bust out crying, you dockle? Want I should spit in your face again?” To “bust out crying” is just like to burst out crying, but “dockle” does not have a modern definition in the dictionary because it was part of the local slang in that period. I had to search a little to find any kind of meaning and finally found that a dockle is a sort of doll or bundle of thread, but, in this quote, “dockle” is clearly an insult. It is difficult to capture the feeling of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn because the way Betty Smith writes is almost otherworldly. But at the same time, the things she writes about are so realistically concrete. The following quote conveys some of the otherworldly but realistic aura of the book. The tree whose leaf umbrellas had curled around, under and over the fi re escape, had been cut down because the housewives complained that wash on the lines got entangled in its branches . . . But the tree hadn’t died . . . it hadn’t died. A new tree had grown from the stump, and its trunk had grown along the ground until it reached a place where there were no wash lines above it. Then it started to grow towards the sky
From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler
Atheneum Books for Young Readers: New York, 2007; originally published in 1967. Raise your hand if you like art. Yes? Good. Raise your hand if you like adventure. Excellent. Now raise your hand if you like books. Spectacular! As it happens, there is a book that can satisfy all of those things—From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E. L. Konigsburg. A blend of mystery, adventure, and a little history, From the Mixed-Up Files is instantly recognizable as a classic book for the ages. The main character, Claudia, feels that her life is riddled with unfair treatment, such as having to constantly do chores for very little allowance. So she resolves to run away from home with her younger brother, Jamie, (mostly because of his transistor radio and all the money he’s saved up) on the Metro-North train and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City for a little while. She plans to learn as much as possible about the museum in the time that they will spend there. While hiding in the museum, Claudia and Jamie notice that people are swarming to see an angel sculpture. Claudia wonders why everybody is so excited about it, so she finds a New York Times and reads an article on the angel, which says that it is suspected to be by Michelangelo. She decides to solve the mystery of the statue’s origins, and in doing so will satisfy her real motive for running away: to have made a significant change in her life by the time she goes home. The story is told as a series of letters written by a character who only appears at the end, Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, who is recording Claudia and Jamie’s tale in a letter to her lawyer, Saxonberg. Mrs. Frankweiler’s asides to Saxonberg are hilarious. Another aspect of the story I enjoyed is how relatable it is. Anyone with at least one sibling knows how incredibly exasperating they are at times (I myself have a little brother); however, on occasion, you are glad to have them around. From the Mixed-Up Files captures this relationship perfectly, and subtly encourages siblings to get along more by focusing on the positives. Another way the author creates a sense of relatability is by describing the many frustrations children have in life (Claudia’s “injustices”) and also our desire for adventure and excitement. I have always wanted something really exciting like a grand adventure or mystery to happen to me, although this wish has unfortunately not yet been granted! Stone Soup put this book on their list of classics, and I wholeheartedly agree with the decision. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler demonstrates all the defining qualities of a classic, and it deserves this honor. For those of you who haven’t read it, go read it. For those of you who have read it, good; now go read it again. Nina Vigil, 11 Katonah, NY
Boy: Tales of Childhood
Puff in: New York, 2016; originally published in 1984. My mother always told me tales from her childhood. Most were happy stories that made me laugh. Others were sad and made me worry about her. Sometimes she told me stories about her own mother, my Yiayia, who had an even harder childhood, raised in a small village in Greece. My mother told me that without experiences, even hard ones, sad ones, and ones that make me cry, a writer will not have anything to write about. Roald Dahl puts his experiences of life, both happy and sad, in his autobiography, Boy: Tales of Childhood. Roald Dahl, the proud author of many funny children’s books, isn’t the same on the inside as what he seems like on the outside. After reading Boy, I learned that he had a hard, troubling life as a kid, and those experiences are the ones that inspired him to write this book. This book is not like others I’ve read. It begins with a memory of his dad working on the roof of their house; his dad tragically falls off and breaks his arm. The nearest doctor was drunk, and he dislocated the poor man’s arm. Because of this, Dahl’s father had to get it amputated and later invented a tool that helped him cut and eat his food with one hand. Dahl also shares his experiences at boarding school where he was often mistreated. But, he also shares happy times, like the time he and his friends put a dead mouse in the mean candy-lady’s store. Dahl’s life was full of different emotions, and I realized I am very lucky that my life is filled with happiness. Still, everybody has had some sad experiences, even if they haven’t had a lot of them. Though I wish Dahl’s life wasn’t full of melancholy events, I believe that is part of the reason he is such a good writer. Most kids know about The BFG, James and the Giant Peach, and Matilda, but they may not know who Dahl was and what his life was like or how this affected his writing. Without these experiences that made him who he was, he may have had nothing to write about at all. I treasure his stories the way I treasure the stories from my mother and grandmother. Marilena Korahais, 8 Whitestone, NY
Number the Stars
HMH Books for Young Readers: New York, 2011; originally published in 1989. Number the Stars is about Annemarie Johansen, a Christian girl living in Denmark during World War II. She is best friends with Ellen Rosen, a Jewish girl. When the Nazis decide to “relocate” Denmark’s Jews, Annemarie and her family hide Ellen to keep her safe. Later, Annemarie helps get Ellen’s family and other Jews across the sea to Sweden, a country that was Nazi-free. At the end of the book, Annemarie has to summon all her bravery to make a trip on her own that will decide the fate of the Jews her family was trying to save. Bravery is an important theme in the book. Annemarie is put in countless situations where she has to be brave or the consequences would be terrible. I admire her very much for this. I also try to be brave. It is a quality I would like to have. However, I don’t feel brave or think that I am. There are silly things that scare me; for example, I get scared if there is an insect nearby. I know this is silly, but still, I am not brave when I see a bug. In the book, Annemarie also says that she does not feel brave. However, when it is necessary to be brave, she is. Fortunately, I have never been in anything close to the terrifying situations Annemarie faced. Still, the book inspired me to think that if someone could be brave in such terrible and scary situations, then maybe I could be brave, too, in the silly situations that I find myself in. All I have to do is try. Another part of the book that spoke to me was a scene involving the Star of David necklace Ellen always wore. In the scene, Ellen has to quickly remove the necklace before the Nazis march into the room. Since there is not enough time to undo the clasp, Annemarie rips the necklace off. I identify with Ellen because I also have a Star of David necklace. My necklace was given to me by my great-grandmother who survived the Holocaust. At the time of the Holocaust, being identified as Jewish through wearing such a necklace could endanger your life. Still, even though my great-grandmother went through the Holocaust, she wanted to give the necklace to me. I think that this is because she thought wearing such a necklace was important. The necklace is a symbol of my culture, and of Ellen’s. And that culture is part of our identity no matter what happens. At the end of the book, Annemarie fixes Ellen’s necklace to give back to her one day. She knows that, like my great-grandmother, Ellen would still want to wear her Star of David necklace. My great-grandmother was from Lithuania. When the Nazis invaded, she was put in a ghetto. Before the ghetto was liquidated, she and my great-grandfather escaped. Her family friends hid her afterward. She later moved to Israel and then America, where I was born. Because of her experience and the experience of my other great-grandparents in the Holocaust, this book was especially meaningful to me. It is also important to me to remember the Holocaust so that something like it never happens again. The Holocaust was a horrible tragedy and therefore reading about it is often very difficult. But, as far as Holocaust books go, this one was less dismal. And so it is a good book to read if you haven’t learned much about the topic. Even if you do know a lot about it, I recommend reading this book, because it focuses on good people who helped the Jews. In Denmark, people were very much against the Nazis. The book demonstrates how people helped the Jews escape and then took care of their possessions after they left. This book illustrates the kindness of the non-Jews in Denmark. We can learn from them that, even in the face of such danger, it is still worth it to help and be kind to others—a lesson that can’t be discussed too much. I read this book a few years ago, and I recently read it again. Both times I enjoyed it a lot and learned a lot. This book is a meaningful story about an inspiring, brave girl who did what was right, and it was even funny at times. If you have never read Number the Stars, I strongly recommend reading it. Maya Viswanathan, 13 Champaign, IL
The Book Thief
Knopf Books for Young Readers: New York, 2016; originally published in 2005. A snow-clad cemetery in Germany, a few months before World War II. A girl cannot believe her brother has just died, as she and her mother witness the burial. A black book drops to the snow without the owner’s knowledge. The girl picks it up and clings to it. Her debut in the career of book thievery. Some hours later, the girl and her mother go their separate ways. The girl goes to her new parents. She does not know where her mother is going. Liesel Meminger (the aforementioned girl) is adopted by Hans and Rosa Hubermann of 33 Himmel Street. The Hubermanns are not rich. They decide to raise Liesel because they are getting an allowance for it. Despite this, Liesel could not have a better father than Hans Hubermann. Hans comes to Liesel’s room after her frequent nightmares and comforts her, or sometimes plays the accordion for her. The same cannot be said of Rosa. Though she loves Liesel, she is constantly addressing her as “pig,” often accompanied by a beating. Liesel soon adapts to life in Himmel Street, befriending Rudy Steiner, one of her neighbors. Liesel and Rudy play football with the other kids, go to school together, and also go on thieving adventures. (Their loot mostly consists of food and an occasional book.) It is Hans who discovers Liesel’s first stolen book. (She was lucky it wasn’t Rosa!) Liesel never learned how to read and Hans has little education. Yet, they manage to finish the book, with Liesel learning how to read in the process. Perhaps these reading sessions develop a love for reading in Liesel. And perhaps this is the reason Liesel feels a compulsion to steal books. The narrator of The Book Thief is Death. What does death have to do with a girl stealing books, you say? But the book is not just about that; it is also a story based in World War II Germany where death had the leading role. Death is not just an observer; he is as much a character as Liesel herself. Death is a wonderful narrator. Often, he includes his flashbacks and images of the future. His narration is also not dry and boring. Death can be funny; he can be friendly. In fact, he is more human than most people think. During the Holocaust, propaganda was common. Hitler fooled the majority of Germans with his words: Germans only read books which were approved by the Nazis; the media was used to create the impression that Hitler was Germany’s savior; Nazis used media to convince people that Jews did not deserve to live. For this reason, the author puts a lot of emphasis on the power of words. Those who can tame words can gain a lot of power. Liesel, for instance, is one of these “word shakers.” By the end of the book, not only can Liesel read novels on her own, she has also started writing the story of her life. (A girl living under Nazi occupation, writing the story of her own life . . . That seems familiar.) The Book Thief is a bundle of themes. It is about “pure” Germans risking their lives to help Jews, the power of words, death, and war. However, unlike most Holocaust books, it does not focus primarily on Jewish characters. The Book Thief is unique because it presents us a rare perspective on living as a non- Jewish German in Nazi Germany. If you haven’t read The Book Thief, you are missing out on one of the best Holocaust books. Ananda Bhaduri, 13 Guwahati, India
The Hobbit
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien; Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012; $14.99 “In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.” J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, published in 1937, is a timeless tale of adventure worth reading over and over again. If you manage to pull open the green door that guards the cozy home inside, what do you see? Try to take the yellow brass knob placed picturesquely in the center. This door guards an adventurous tale of thirteen dwarfs and a hobbit. The “unexpected party” sets off to reclaim the dwarfs’ treasure from Smaug “the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities”. You creep inside this door and hear faint singing; Tolkien’s poetry and songs fill this story with fun rhymes and longing hopes. Down the hall, in the kitchen, is Bilbo Baggins a clever, courageous and persistent hobbit. Farther inside the well-kept hobbit hole, you see lessons Bilbo learns along his journey. You look out the window, and in the distance you watch fourteen figures on horseback. Will the burglar and the dwarfs reclaim their “long-forgotten gold”? Whether you’re on your way far over the Misty Mountains cold, chipping glasses and cracking plates, or maybe tra-la-la-lalling in the valley, Tolkien’s dexterous poems and songs are sure to please for ages to come. The poems are either funny, longing or ingenious. They add an extra layer of descriptions that makes one feel as if one is actually in Bilbo’s parlor listening to the dwarfs singing of the Lonely Mountain and the dragon’s great greed that led to the destruction of Dale. No hobbit is smarter, more stouthearted and steadfast than Bilbo Baggins. Throughout the course of The Hobbit, Bilbo is clever. For example, he rescued the dwarfs when they had been captured by the Wood-Elves in Mirkwood. No one would have come up with the escape plan Bilbo thought of: saving the dwarfs by way of barrel. But that is only one side of the Tookish hobbit. It takes courage to go on an adventure with thirteen strange, uncouth dwarfs. For instance, Bilbo was brave and bright when he bested Gollum in the riddle contest while inside the dark, damp tunnels of the Goblin King. Lastly, Bilbo is persistent. Finding the keyhole when all the other dwarfs had given up shows his sense of perseverance. All in all, Bilbo is valiant, quick-witted and never quits. The books that have withstood time’s test have lessons to teach. The Hobbit did, and still does, just that. Along his journey, the small hobbit, Bilbo, learns many lessons. Smaug’s greed for gold and jewels lead the scarlet dragon to destruction. This teaches us not to live for ourselves alone. The theme of good verses evil teaches us to fight for what is right. The company’s determination to succeed in their goal is admirable. This inculcates us to never give up. The lessons learned in this valuable book have endured. As Bilbo said, or more rather, sang, roads do go ever on and on. Sometimes the road is made of difficult terrain, rocky and hard to climb; but sometimes the road is smooth; the sun is shining, and the sky is clear and blue. You stop short as you see your neighbor’s hobbit holes – you’re home! However, you notice something different. It isn’t something you can hold in your hand, but something imprinted in your heart. What you find are clever songs; an endearing character—Bilbo—who teaches you life lessons. You gently close the round door, smiling. Catherine Gruen, 11 Chino Hills, CA
Uprising
Uprising by Margaret Peterson Haddix; Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers: New York, 2011; $11.99 Uprising. One word, but somehow this meager collection of letters presents readers with strong, vivid emotions. Some when confronted with this word would mentally tremble in fright. Some might feel a sense of rebellion brewing inside them. Others would, I dare say, laugh, regarding almost humorously the rough cards life has dealt them and their failed attempts to regain control and ultimately uprise. Such a simple word, such a simple title, such a complex concept. In this book, Haddix creates a world so similar to our own it’s hard to believe that her story is based upon historical content dating back to over one hundred years ago. It is a world we see everyday on the news, a world of division, anger, and violence. But it is also a world of hope and love. Through brilliant storytelling, the author is able to bring readers into early twentieth-century New York at the beginning of an uprising! As 1911 progresses, the world is faced with new ideas each day. Women’s rights are finally making their way into the United States, and many are hopeful that Britain’s movement will sweep into America as well. While many suffragists are struggling to gain support for their cause, shirtwaist workers with very little public influence are also making their way into the headlines. Workers from around the country unite to protest peacefully for better conditions in the workplace. Towards the beginning of the novel, we are swept into the lives of three girls, each speaking in different tongues and from different countries. However, somehow each one shares something in common, a yearning for a purpose. Timid Bella has just arrived in the land of opportunity, America, only to discover that this new land is not always paved with gold. On the other hand, headstrong Yetta is determined to change the world in some form. At the same time, elegant Jane lives in luxury, but passionately seeks more than her father’s wealth can offer. As the book begins, the author focuses primarily on their separate lives, but later weaves each of these together to set a premise for a monumental conclusion. The three girls join together about midway through the book to unite in their cause, worker’s rights. Fighting peacefully each day for better working conditions in New York’s crowded factories, the characters experience fear and pain in their quest for justice. However, a terrible tragedy holds the power to tear them apart forever. Haddix keeps readers hanging on to each word throughout. I found that the many setbacks of the characters only added to the overall product and believe our modern world could learn a lot from the perseverance and hope conveyed in the book. The Shirtwaist Factory Strike is a main focus, but the author never strays away from human emotions and experiences despite the book’s historical background. Readers who enjoy the Dear America series will delight in this powerful portrayal of life in the twentieth-century U.S. Although intended for a young adult audience, it is my belief that anyone searching for a good historical read, regardless of age, will thoroughly enjoy this book. However, one must consider the intended age before choosing Uprising as their latest reading endeavor. The story offers many historically accurate details, which pairing with the plot, create a stunning presentation.Overall I found this book entrancing, and struggled to put it down each day. It is a great representation of the power of perseverance and hope. Eliza Smith, 12 Church Hill, TN
The War That Saved My Life
The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley Dial Books for Young Readers: New York, 2015; $11.89 When I sat down to read the book The War That Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley, I thought it was a crummy book. But the more I got into the book, the more I couldn’t put it down. Now, this book is one of my favorites! The main character, Ada, is a girl with a clubfoot. Due to this, most people around her, such as her neighbors, hate Ada, and try to stay as far away from her as possible. This makes her feel very lonely, and she doesn’t know where she belonged. As Ada thought to herself, right after a teacher wouldn’t let Ada go to class because of her foot: “Why would I cry? I wanted to hit something, or throw something or scream. I wanted to gallop on butter and never stop. I wanted to run, but not with my twisted, ugly, horrible foot.” When this happened, I felt really sorry for Ada. I mean, it was just a clubfoot. Why did everybody treat her like she needed to be put in an asylum? Even her mom was not on the same side as Ada because she thought her clubfoot was an embarrassing sight. She not only hadn’t taken Ada to school, but she hadn’t even let Ada even step foot outside the apartment, leaving Ada not knowing about basic things. However, Ada is a very brave and caring person. She has a lot of stress on her back, but she continued to fight forward for what was right. This is a reason I like her. Ada may look scrawny and weak, but inside, she’s a good-hearted, strong person. Why, in fact, she even saves the village from a spy! In contrast to Ada’s biological mother, Susan Smith, Ada’s foster mother, cares about her. Susan tries to help Ada with almost anything. She clearly showed a lot of effort into taking care of her. And when times seemed dark, she glowed, leading Ada into the right direction. Susan reminds me of my mom. My mom is also caring and supportive, and when times are dark, she helps me overcome the dark time with the light, just like Susan does for Ada. This book takes place during World War Two. Ada sneaks out her apartment onto a train with many children, bound for a safe zone. Once there, she and her younger brother, Jamie, become Ms. Smith’s children. After the war ends, Ada has to try to become normal and get used to the life outside of her apartment. It is hard, but she persists until she finally finds where she belongs. In this book, Ada had to find her real home. Three years before I read this book, I had to leave my New York home and school I had lived and loved for five years, and move to a new, unfamiliar school in Massachusetts. The lonely feeling in my stomach was relatable to Ada’s. But, just like her, I persisted. Three years after I moved to Massachusetts, I graduated one of the top students in the school. I had persisted, and finally fit in, just like Ada. Another reason I like this book is that the plot is brilliant and very well thought up. I couldn’t stop reading the book even when it was time for bed because I wanted to know what happened next. I would definitely recommend this book to you. After you finish it, I guarantee it will be your favorite book, too! Brian Qi, 11 Lexington, MA
The Children of Exile
The Children of Exile By Margaret Peterson Haddix; Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers: New York, 2015; $17.99 Have you ever had a hard decision deciding between two books to read? I started in the bookstore holding two precious books. My mother’s eyes stared down at me expectantly, wanting me to just pick a book and leave. I looked this way and that and finally made the decision to pick the book, The Children of Exile. This book’s back cover really intrigued me. After reading it, my mind was filled with questions: Why were the children sent to Fredtown? What type of people were in Fredtown? And just like that, I became absorbed in this book by Margaret Peterson Haddix. It is an amazing book about staying strong and standing up for your differences. In this book, the protagonist is a twelve-year-old girl named Rosi. Ever since she was born, her brother Bobo and she had been sent off to a faraway place called Fredtown. In Fredtown, there were no arguments and everything was resolved by talking it through. One day Rosi, her little brother Bobo, and all the other children of Fredtown were told that they were going to be sent back to their original homes where they would meet their birth mothers and fathers. Rosi has to take care of all the children and fight for what is right. In this action-packed story, nothing is unthinkable. One of the important themes in this book to me is to speak up and do what is right. When Rosi comes back to her real home, she realizes the ways are different. Many things require a fight when they could be resolved calmly. For example, having lost their children for six years, the real parents want them back very badly. As soon as the plane from Fredtown lands, the parents bang on plane doors and windows making a loud racket. Rosi and the other children become even more scared. Rosi had imagined a calm line of parents waiting peacefully and welcoming their children with kindness and love. She had not expected this. My favorite part in this book is in the middle. This is when Rosi’s real parents take Bobo and her to church. Then, when the preacher preaches, he talks about how their town had finally got all of its children back. He said that the Fred parents were evil and were thieves who stole their children. While saying this, Rosi was having a hard time keeping her mouth shut; she wanted to speak up and say how kind, loving, and caring the Fred parents were. Finally, when Rosi couldn’t contain herself, she spoke up. All of the parents stared at her as if she was crazy, but she kept going. Rosi is a very brave girl and fought for what is right. I absolutely loved her character in the book. I connected this to my piano class. In piano there is something called sight-reading. Sight-reading is when you are given a piece of music, and you have to play it without mistakes. When I tried to sight-read one of the pieces, it seemed really hard for me. One day I looked at the front cover of the sight-reading book and saw it said for level 7. I remembered I was testing for level 4, but never brought up the fact that the book was level 7. My piano teacher realized soon enough that the book wasn’t the right level. Once I got the level 4 sight-reading book, it seemed much easier to me. After reading the book The Children of Exile, I think that if I had been brave and spoke up like Rosi, then the problem of my sight-reading book might have been resolved earlier. I strongly recommend this book to science fiction lovers with a little bit of mystery mixed into it. This story is good for young adults. Both girls and boys will be cheering for Rosi along the way as she finds her freedom. I cannot imagine this story being written any better. Once you pick up the book The Children of Exile you will not be able to put it down so BEWARE! Portia Li, 11 Acton, MA